


Walking in the Air

by Loxley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brothers, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Getting Together, Gryffindor Common Room, M/M, Original Character(s), Quidditch, Second War with Voldemort, Second Wizarding War, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Spy Percy, Studying, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxley/pseuds/Loxley
Summary: Percy Weasley has never been anyone's favorite Weasley. And he knows why; he accepts it. Heck, he has learned to thrive from it. Publicly disowning his family meant they were safe, after all.In which Percy works undercover in the Ministry, faces Death Eaters weekly, breaks his heart from having to deny his family daily, and has to put up with a Quidditch obsessed kid he's known since his first year at Hogwarts (but that's okay because he sort of loves him).





	1. Sorting Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Oliver meet and it's amazing.

Percy had never been best at anything, always coming after Bill and Charlie, never being able to claim anything as ‘his’ with all his many talented siblings. Never been anyone’s favorite Weasley. And he knew why: he was too annoying, too uptight, demanded too much. He had long since accepted the truth; he would never measure up.

And so, he never truly expected anything else to change during his years at Hogwarts. Sure, he was excited about it; all that knowledge, just waiting for him to discover it. And because of the fact that he had older brothers like Bill, who was book smart, and Charlie, who could always think of new ways of applying even the strictest of spells—both of whom were incredibly proud and glad to teach their calmer, younger brother—, Percy was far more advanced than many of his classmates, and he even dared say a few of the older kids. He knew that the professors had much to teach him, and he could not wait to learn. But he also knew what he was like, he knew the way that people tended to react to him, so he was not expecting to come out of Hogwarts with friends—connections, sure, but not friends. He had all his siblings, after all. What else could he need?

He had long since accepted that fact, which was why he was so incredibly confused when, sitting down after being sorted into Gryffindor and being patted on the back by two proud older brothers, the next Gryffindor who was sorted next chose to sit right next to him, specially because there was so much more available space across from him. Percy scooted over closer to Charlie, but the boy didn’t seem to take the hint. Instead, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table so that not only were their thighs touching, but so were their arms. Percy took a deep breath before removing his arm from the table and moving so close to Charlie that he was practically on top of his older brother. Having five younger brothers, Charlie didn’t even notice. He simply patted Percy on the head and kept looking towards the podium, where Percy could see Dumbledore speaking with McGonagall.

The boy to his left turned to look at him and offered Percy a crooked smile, which almost matched Fred and George’s mischievous ones. Percy swallowed.

“My name’s Oliver,” the boy said with a thick Scottish accent, his smile never leaving his face, even as his dark brown eyes seemed to analyze Percy’s face.

“Percy Weasley.”

Oliver then turned to gaze at the candles that floated near the ceiling. Percy turned to see what the other boy found so fascinating.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked. Percy figured he meant he candles.

“I guess. I expected something more elaborate,” he could hear the disappointment in his own voice even as he tried to bring it under control. He continued to stare at the candles as if expecting them to do something amazing.

Next to him, Charlie shot his younger brother an endeared smile.

“More elaborate than candles flying?” Oliver wondered excitedly.

“Well, yes. According to Hogwarts: A History, in the sorting ceremony of 1232, there were dragons.”

“Dragons!” Oliver practically squealed.

“They’re considered ‘dangerous’ creatures, Perce. Too many parental complaints, I reckon, if kids were being burned alive during the sorting ceremony,” Charlie interrupted, not in the least bothered by his blatant admission of eavesdropping.

“It would have at least made for a more interesting sorting ceremony,” Percy sniffed.

Oliver smiled shyly at Charlie.

“I’m Oliver Wood.”

“Charlie Weasley, Percy’s older brother. And that’s Bill,” he said, pointing at the other redhead—this one with his hair almost to his shoulders—who sat on his other side, and all three of them watched him shove an impressive spoonful of blueberry pie into his mouth.

“Hello. So you’re saying we could have had dragons if parents didn’t complain? That’d be so awesome.”

“I totally agree, kid,” Charlie chuckled. “But I doubt your parents would be as excited about it as you and I.”

“Well, mum’s a Muggle so I’m pretty sure she’d be as excited over dragons as me.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, kid. Our mum would murder us if we got burnt to a crisp by a dragon.”

“As interesting as it would have been, it would be too dangerous, that’s why dragons were banned. I’ve read many research papers about trying to tame dragons, or the likeliness of ever achieving so, and in my opinion, it looks like a grim future for any dragon ‘tamer’ out there. Or well, any dragonologist, really. Though I also have to admit that dragons do have their purposes, like for example some medical advancements such as…”

Percy drone on, sharing his findings and opinions on a subject he’d researched so deeply. He’d grown used to his brothers, sister, and parents losing interest halfway through his speeches, but Percy was surprised when, halfway through this particular spiel on the uses of humanely removed scales vs. the effects of cruelly removed scales, he looked back up from his food at Oliver Wood and found him clinging to his every word.

And it was in that moment, under Oliver’s gaze, his undivided attention on him, that Percy felt something in his chest click into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Percy and Oliver, obviously, but I was so sad to see there weren't a lot of fics about them, so I decided to write my own. Hopefully y'all like it? I would also liked to apologize for the very Americanized dialogue and writing, but I feel that if I even attempted to stay true to the HP British lingo and whatnot I would just fail miserably.  
> (First work posted here, so please be kind!)
> 
> (Song titled after Mimicking Birds's song Walking in the Air; totally badass, you should check it out)
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if y'all like it!


	2. First Year Gargoyle Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet of Percy and Oliver's first year.

“I swear to Merlin, if the two of you don’t shut up, I am going to avada you so hard!” Pip threatened from the safety of his bed, his pale head poking out from between the thick red curtains.

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Pip, shut up. You’re only adding to the racket,” another voice called out, this one coming from between Percy and Pip’s beds.

“We’re not even being that loud, Pip, relax,” Oliver suggested from where he lay on Percy’s bed, his History of Magic textbook and notes spread before him.

Percy eyed the mess his roommate had made with judging eyes.

“All three of you need to shut the fuck up because this is getting ridiculous. Oliver, it’s really not that hard. Pip, they’re as likely to shut up as you are to avada them. Nico… that was actually accurate. Good job,” Simon’s tired voice reached them from between Oliver’s empty bed and Pip’s bed.

“I would like to suggest the common room. The door is literally right next to you, Percy. Lead Oliver away, please. For all our sanities,” Nico added dryly.

Oliver glared around the room.

“Don’t come asking me for help during Madam Hooch’s lessons, then. Assholes,” to his benefit, he did whisper that last part.

Percy turned to him, an unamused look on his face.

“Well, I didn’t say anything, I’m the only one actually willing to help you so that threat better not be directed at me.”

“You’re also the only one who can barely get his broom off the ground,” Pip mocked.

“He can get it off the ground, he just can’t do anything else,” Oliver attempted to defend his friend, much to the amusement of their three roommates.

Percy growled before primly pushing his glasses higher on his nose and gathering his notes from where they lay beside Oliver’s.

“Let’s go to the common room, we still have an hour until curfew,” he suggested, getting up and walking between Pip’s bed and his own towards the door.

He heard Oliver clumsily follow.

“Oh, please. Just stay out there as long as possible so that we can get some sleep. It’s not like Bill will say anything,” Pip called.

“Bill better say something if we stay past curfew! Abusing Prefect powers is wrong, and I would hope that Bill knows better than that,” Percy answered, even as he continued to walk out of the room.

Plenty of the other rooms still had their doors open, with boys from all years walking up and down the hall. Some said hello, but most ignored him as he walked down the stairs, Oliver close behind. The common room was, thank Merlin, emptier than he thought it would have been; there were only a handful of students milling around, some with their homework out, others playing Exploding Snap, if the small explosions and following shrieks were any indication. Percy could see Charlie sitting by the fire, a book about what seemed to be dragons in his hands.

Percy sat down not far from his brother, notes in hand, back straight and face held high as he waited for Oliver to join him on the couch. He looked around the gaudy room and decorations with a look of distaste, barely noticing Oliver as he approached until the latter had thrown himself into the cushions next to Percy, causing him to bounce on his spot. He threw his hands out to catch himself, and was grateful his notes did nothing more than land next to him, even if his glasses did slip crookedly down his nose.

“I would appreciate it if you did not do that from now on,” Percy chastised, but Olive merely turned to look his way, dark brown eyes wide and honest.  
“You act too much like an adult, has anyone ever told you?”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Percy defended himself, blushing even as he brought his fingers up to brush through his curls, managing only to mess them up even more, make them fluffier and to stand in even the most impossible of angles.

“Never said it was. It suits you,” the Scot admitted before turning back to the mess that was his notes, trying to decipher his own handwriting, something that Percy never had any trouble with because of his vast experience with Fred, George, and Ron’s own scribbles they called handwriting.

Percy took his roommate’s scrolls with a roll of his eyes and started to translate them into readable information, with notes and simplifications on the margins. He wanted Olive to pass his classes, after all, because if he didn’t, then who would help him learn how to fly? And Percy had to admit: Oliver was a natural flyer, even if he had an unhealthy obsession with Quidditch. Percy himself had plenty of unhealthy obsessions himself, so he had no room left to judge.

“Okay, so the Gargoyle Strike of 1911. The wildcat Gargoyles had the upper hand, they had destroyed many of the historical buildings they had once been created to protect, and the Aurors who were sent after them were not being successful because…” Percy prompted, motioning for Oliver to continue with that train of thought.

“Well, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because they were bloody magical gargoyles made out of bloody magical stone?”

The redhead took a deep breath before soldiering on.

“No, they weren’t carved out of magical stone, Oliver. They were carved out of granite under a blood moon during a meteor shower and lighting storm while being enchanted by three mages. And the reason why the Aurors couldn’t gain the upper hand is because they had failed to realize that the powerful ritual of their creation would also give them magical abilities to certain extent—granted, they had had no reasons to even know this before then, so they were caught by surprise. But still, they underestimated their opponents and paid a hefty price for it.”

“Did they all die or something?”

“Not all, but many lives were lost, and many historical buildings were damaged beyond repair. So much history, lost.”

“How did they manage to defeat them, then?” Oliver inquired, riveted.

“One particularly ingenious Ministry official.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that out of everyone present, it wasn’t the highly trained people who defeated the gargoyles, but a random Ministry official?”

“He was more than ‘a random Ministry official’, Oliver. They are highly trained as well. They have important positions to fill, after all.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I know your dad works at the Ministry. That’s got to be pretty cool, huh?”

“I suppose,” Percy tried to sound nonchalant, but Oliver kindly didn’t comment on his failure.

“So what did that amazing Ministry official do that the Aurors didn’t?”

“He worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. In the Beast Division, actually. While there wasn’t a lot of information about Gargoyles, he was able to piece together enough information about how to bring them down.”

“And how was that?”

“Turns out Gargoyles hate salt.”

There was a moment of disbelieving silence.

“I’m sorry, salt?”

“Salt.”

“So… it wasn’t even some amazing spell or potion, but salt. Something you can find in any kitchen in the world was what brought them down.”  
Percy nodded, a bright smile on his lips.

“Isn’t history amazing?”

“Well, this particular plot twist is pretty bloody interesting, I’ll give you that.”

Percy nodded again, turning back to his notes, looking for other odd details such as the one from the Gargoyle Strike that he thought would help Oliver remember Professor Binns’s lectures.

“You have dimples, did you know?”

Percy looked back up at Oliver, a confused look on his face.

“Of course I know. Fred and George mock me horribly for them, and Ron and Ginny follow suit, the little traitors.”

“Well, I like them.”

“You only say that because you can smile freely without annoying siblings making fun of you. They’re useless and quite honestly I could do well without them.”

“Whatever you say, Percy,” Olive shrugged, but Percy could tell he disagreed.

Having gotten into plenty of arguments with Ron and Fred and George, Percy knew better than to argue, but he couldn’t help the small smile that escaped him.

Someone liked something about him that his siblings did not. Percy felt warmth flowing through him.

He looked back up and met Charlie’s eyes, who instantly shot his younger brother a wide grin and dug his fingers into his cheeks.

Percy glared even as Charlie laughed good-naturedly.

He scooted closer to Oliver and focused on the dimple free smile he offered him.

“We really need to find somewhere else to study.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and subscriptions, y'all!


	3. Second Year Fist Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippet of Percy's second year and what it really means to be someone's roommate (starting the Interhouse Riot of 1988, apparently).

“Blood traitors have no place in Hogwarts.”

Percy stiffened but continued to walk, holding his head high and tightening his grip on his school bag.

“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere off with your Muggle loving father?”

When Marcus Flint realized the mention of his father was what made Percy flinch, he switched tactics, asking “is it true that he collects broken Muggle things? How stupid does one have to be to find Muggles so fascinating? There is far much that can be done to assist the wizarding community, to better it, yet here he is, playing around with Muggle crap. How pathetic.”

“Do us all a favor and do shut up, Flint. Everyone knows there is much to be learned from Muggles, or have you already forgotten the many Muggle medical techniques we adopted as our own and developed to fit our needs?” a new voice called out, and before long, Percy’s black-haired roommate stood by his side, an annoyed look on his face.

“Stay out of this, Kassmeyer, it doesn’t concern you,” Flint snarled.

“But it does. Percy was meant to meet me fifteen minutes ago to help me with an Astronomy problem, but now because of you, our time has run out and he has to meet Wood for his flying lessons. Bet you five galleons he manages to find his way to Wood the second my back is turned.”

Flint raised his eyebrow and shot a nasty look at Percy, who sighed. Looked like he’d be even later meeting Wood than he’d originally thought.

“Oh, so the little blood traitor’s got a boyfriend. Wouldn’t surprise me. I mean, Wood is a half-blood. Weasley’s just following in his daddy’s footsteps. It’s not his fault Wood’s the closest he can get to a Muggle around here.”

By then, a crowd had gathered around the three second years, ties of all four houses surrounding them, kids from almost every year. It was then that Simon pushed his way to the front of the crowd and shot his friends a glare.

“Where the bloody hell have you two been? Oliver’s going mad, he has practice later on and he says he can’t wait much longer for you, Percy, so if I were you I’d get my ass to the Quidditch pitch like yesterday,” Simon rushed out, hurrying to their side, either ignoring or not noticing the crowd gathered around them. Either was as likely when it came to Simon Barr.

“Well, looks like I was wrong,” even as Flint spoke, Nico and Percy moved in front of Simon so that he was completely hidden from Flint’s view. Not that that stopped him. “Little Simon Barr, the second year Gryffindor’s Mudblood. Their little pet.”

Up until that moment, the crowd had been whispering amongst themselves, some cheering on the Slytherin, others cheering on the Gryffindors, but at that word, silence enveloped the hall. No one moved, no one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe.

Until Percy snapped forward and punched Flint squarely in the face.

After that, it was a free-for-all. Everyone started yelling, attacking one another.

It was a mess.

A loud, confused, hurt mess.

Amongst the chaos, the three second year Gryffindors stood frozen, and remained so until Simon cleared his throat and, keeping his head down, grabbed Percy’s hand. As he took out his wand to heal Percy’s injured hand (Flint’s nose was harder than even Fred and George’s were), Percy and Nico pretended not to notice his red eyes and pink cheeks.

Sort of.

“You’re far more brilliant than Flint ever will be. You’re kind, and you’re smart, and you’re going to go far. You’re already on your way to becoming a good Healer, even if you are just a second year,” Percy said as he watched his skin mend back together. “There will always be jerks who will try to bring you down because of your blood status, but to hell with them. Whatever happens, don’t let them.”

Having been subjected to far more bullying than most kids, it seemed vital to Percy for Simon to understand just how incredible he was, how far he could go.

His words caught up to him, however, and his cheeks burned a bright red, his freckles disappearing completely.

“I should go,” he managed to choke out despite his embarrassment, ducking as an Ancient Runes textbook came flying past his head, quickly followed by a panicked sixth year (after remembering the price of said book, probably). “Before Oliver decides that he’s too cool to keep on our flying lessons,” he left without waiting for his roommates’ replies, weaving between screaming matches and hair pulling, a couple of fistfights, and more than enough people dangling from their feet in the air. There were also a couple of students with boils in their faces, and a Slytherin girl sporting bright scarlet and gold hair, much to her horror. Percy hurried away from the chaos before someone thought to hex him.

On his way to the Quidditch pitch Percy passed many professors and prefects who he figured were on their way to stop the fight he had just left. He kept his head down and hoped Nico and Simon had been smart enough to leave the fight after Percy in order to avoid getting caught.

He walked down the halls and past classrooms, ignoring the many questions he could hear some of the kids asking about the fight they’d heard about, pretending he had no idea what they were talking about.

He hiked his schoolbag higher on his shoulder and carried on, breathing a relieved sigh when he finally left the castle and could see the Quidditch pitch off in the distance.  
He quickened his pace, hoping to catch Oliver before his practice started, if only to schedule another flying lesson.

Maybe he should apologize, as well. He knew it hadn’t been his fault and he technically didn’t have anything to apologize for, but he did know that Oliver loved Quidditch, and making him wait for him while he was getting into fights was only making him lose time he could have otherwise spent training.

Merlin, Percy could remember how excited Oliver had been after he had made the team. And how nervous, too, both before and after tryouts. For the weeks leading up to the tryouts, Olive had made Nico, Simon, and Pip practice with him, and Percy keep score and even research different moves and techniques that could work for Oliver. He’d been such a nervous mess. But during the actual tryouts he’d done so well. Oliver had been in his element, and while after tryouts were over he’d reverted to his nervous state, the four Gryffindor boys knew Oliver had definitely earned a place on the Gryffindor team.

And sure enough, a few days after tryouts, Oliver rushed into the dorm room and screamed for all to hear that he was the newest Gryffindor Keeper. Percy had been so proud; it wasn’t every day that a second year joined the team with a position as vital as that of Keeper, but he knew Oliver could do it. he was fast, and smart, and could fly like nobody’s business.

Something that no matter how much he tried to teach to Percy, the latter just simply couldn’t manage.

After a whole year of flying lessons with Oliver, however, he was slightly better than when he’d first started. He could actually stay on his broom for longer than fifteen minutes without falling (he’d gotten some pretty painful broken bones before they’d learned their lesson and kept close to the ground or with Oliver directly flying directly underneath him in order to catch him when he inevitably fell off his blasted broom).

As he neared the pitch, Percy saw a figure clad in the Gryffindor uniform pacing by the entrance, and grimaced.

Looked like Oliver was waiting for him.

Percy all but ran to his roommate, who stopped his pacing in order to glare at him.

“I know, I know, I’m late.”

Oliver scoffed.

“Late would be five minutes. Not twenty. I told you today would have to be a short lesson because the captain scheduled an earlier practice, but you said you could make it! if you knew you couldn’t you should have told me!”

Percy looked at the grass under his feet.

“I truly am sorry. I was on my way but there was a fight so I had to take the long way in order to avoid getting hexed.”

“A fight? What about?”

“Who knows. A Slytherin started it.”

“Of course.”

Just then, a whistle sounded from inside the pitch, causing Oliver to grimace.

“I gotta go, practice is about to start. But we can have our flying lesson tomorrow after Charms, if you want.’

Percy nodded, moving to follow Oliver as he began walking inside the pitch.

“I’ll wait for you to finish practice,” he replied to Oliver’s curious look. “I’ve got a lot of homework to catch up on.”

“Great! I’ll see ya after!” and with that, Oliver rushed into the grassy field where his teammates were waiting, and Percy took the stairs leading up to the stands, choosing to sit on one of the corners of the stands, right in front of the goalposts.

He could see out of the corner of his eye the Gryffindor team rise into the air and get in position as he took out his homework and spread it all out on the seats surrounding him.  
And if he had a perfect view of Oliver whenever he looked up from his Herbology notes, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was more fun to write than I thought it would be. I kinda love Simon?


	4. Third Year Redhead Standoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippet of Percy and Oliver's third year, featuring the Redhead Standoff (the twins are too much even for Charlie, everyone's subjected to Percy's cleaning charms, and Oliver realizes he has a thing for curly haired redheads... maybe).

Percy was ready to graduate.

He was ready to leave Hogwarts behind, leave its long halls and empty fields, its murderous trees and lying mirrors, the trick steps and Hogsmeade trips.

He was ready to leave it all behind if it meant leaving the twins behind.

Oliver thought he was being more than a little dramatic, but to be honest, Percy didn’t really care what Oliver had to say on the matter.

And with that comment, he threw one of the Common Room couch pillows over his face and tried his best to suffocate.

Oliver knew better than to stop him, though he did keep an eye on him as he struggled through his Potions homework, something that Percy was supposed to be helping him with but was too busy sulking to actually do anything other than complain.

He didn’t really get it, though, Percy’s annoyance and borderline anger over his younger brothers’ first school year. Granted, they were a bit rowdy and… (crazy was the word that popped in Oliver’s mind but he was too nice to actually think it out loud to himself) outspoken, but overall they were pretty cool.

As Percy continued to smoosh his face with the pillow, Oliver shifted, trying to get comfortable in his Quidditch gear (most of it, anyway). Charlie had scheduled a practice for that very day but it had started to rain halfway through, and while they usually practiced through the rain, this particular storm had been ridiculous and after most of the team had ended up half drowned, Charlie had decided to call it quits. The whole team had hightailed it into the castle, ignoring the changing rooms in order to get warm faster, and so now they were all in the Gryffindor Common Room, dragging in mud and water and all sorts of things that had driven Percy a bit mad. He had chased after them all, casting particularly strong Scrourgifies at all the players and every single place they stepped on. To be perfectly honest, the team mostly found the Captain’s younger brother a bit intimidating, which Oliver thought was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

He objectively knew Percy had a vast knowledge of spells, charms, jinxes, and hexes, could find new uses for even the simplest of spells, knew so much history and politics and laws and everything Oliver had no hope of ever learning, and most importantly, Percy Weasley had ridiculously strong magic. But Oliver also knew that Percy was a dork who had to be in bed by ten every night or else he woke up grumpy, and who hated it when Oliver wore mismatched socks, or any of their friends didn’t wear their uniforms perfectly.

He knew Percy Weasley, and so he thought their apprehension was unfounded. That’s not to say he didn’t use it in his favor.

Because he did.

Shamelessly.

There were moments when Percy did scare Oliver, though, but not because he was a scary person, but because Oliver had grown to know every single one of Percy’s expressions, because of course they all meant someone had done something stupid, but there were levels to that stupidness. Oliver’s usually fell somewhere in the middle.

This particularly rainy night, though, judging from Percy’s look, he was veering towards the higher levels on the stupid scale. Percy kept peeking from under the pillow and he was either squinting or glaring (Oliver had managed to save his glasses and put them on the table next to his books before Percy smashed the pillow into his face) or a mixture of both at Oliver’s muddied uniform. He was the only one still wearing it, Percy having sent all other players upstairs to change the second they walked through the portrait. Oliver had escaped that same fate simply because their friends were already waiting for them with their homework ready for them so they could start working on it together.

After this particular look, however, Oliver stood and with one comforting pat on the pillow (which was still over his face—how was he still breathing?), walked up the stairs up to his room, ignoring Percy’s Scourgifies and his friends’ laughter as the sounds followed him up.

After reaching his room, he threw off his uniform and left it on the floor between his and Percy’s beds, making a mental note to ask Percy’s help cleaning it (he had always been better at cleaning charms). He put on his pajamas, figuring it was late enough that no one would comment, and as he was pulling his shirt down, the little brooms zipping through the fabric (he ignored everyone’s comments that he was too old for such a shirt, loving everything Quidditch related—plus, it had been a gift from Percy), he heard the door opening.

“I’m almost done, I’ll be right down, Perce,” he said without turning around, shoving his feet into Pip’s shoes, having not found his own (Pip tended to leave his shit laying around all over the room anyway, so it wasn’t unusual for his roommates to wear his stuff).

“Take your time,” a voice that was definitely not Percy’s spoke.

Oliver spun around and came face to face with a redhead. But not his usual redhead, because this particular redhead didn’t have curls.

Just as Oliver was about to say something, another redhead stepped from behind the first, but this was not his redhead either.

“If you would just pretend you never saw us, mate, that would be great,” the first voice spoke, even as the second person moved past its double and headed straight for Percy’s bed.

Oliver rushed to intercept him even as the redheaded Weasley but not his redheaded Weasley raised his wand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, raising his eyebrow as he caught the first year’s wrist.

“We heard about this wicked spell from this sixth year. It’s supposed to make all your hair fall out,” the perpetrator said.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay, and why are you here, then?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re gonna use the spell on Percy,” the first boy said.

Oliver let go off George’s wrist but stood between him and Percy’s bed, arms crossed over his chest.

“You can try that spell on anyone else but the people of this dorm are off limits.”

Fred began arguing instantaneously, but Oliver simply raised his hand to quiet him down. He was surprised when it worked.

“No, I mean it. And I don’t just mean they’re off limits when they’re in the dorm. They’re always off limits. We’ve all got too much shit going on without having to deal with you two as well.”

“But Percy’s our brother! He’s used to it!” George complained.

“He’ll probably think it’s weird if we don’t bother him even a bit,” Fred agreed, looking resolute.

“He really won’t, trust me. And I’m not saying don’t play pranks on anyone ever again, I personally think your pranks are brilliant. Just leave Pip, Simon, Nico, Perce, and me alone. Specially Percy. Got it?”

He somehow managed to get them to agree, though he wasn’t too sure how long they would keep their word not to bother Percy, but Oliver figured he’d worry over it when the time came.

He had just finished herding the twins out of his dorm when he caught sight of two other redheads, one of them his curly haired redhead.

He couldn’t help but smile at his friend as the four redheads met, both pairs eyeing the other distrustfully.

Oliver stood back and watched.

“What were you two doing in Percy’s room?” Charlie asked, his eyes never leaving his younger brothers.

“Nothing!” Fred cried, eyes wide.

“I don’t believe you! You were probably cursing all my stuff again!” Percy accused, his bony finger pointed straight at George’s face.

It was only Charlie’s Seeker reflexes that allowed him to catch whatever it was that Fred had just thrown at Percy, and it was only Charlie’s many years as Fred and George’s older brother that told him he should probably throw whatever he had just caught as far away from his oldest younger brother as possible.

A few seconds later, the spot where it landed exploded into purple smoke.

“I don’t even want to know what that does,” Charlie said as he patted Percy’s shoulder when the latter gaped at the smoke. “Listen, you two. I get that pranks are your thing, but Merlin, please do try to keep our siblings out of it, yeah?”

Fred and George snorted and asked how they were supposed to know if their pranks worked if they couldn’t use them on Percy, but Charlie growled at them to go to their dorm.

Oliver could see them debating whether or not to listen to Charlie when the latter reached over and grabbed a hold of one ear each. He pulled them along towards their dorm, throwing a warm ‘bye Perce, bye Oliver’ over his shoulder, and Oliver decided to pretend he couldn’t hear the twins’ cries for help.

“Don’t worry, nothing was cursed,” Oliver tried to pacify Percy when he saw the look his friend was giving their dorm door.

“That’s what they want you to think. They could have casted something without you even noticing. They’re good at that.”

Oliver shook his head.

“I was already in there when they walked in. I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”

He could tell that Percy was fighting between believing him but also knowing his brothers. He still looked unsure and more than a little worried.

“I can help you check, if you want. Just to make sure they didn’t sneak anything past me,” Oliver offered. Anything to get rid of that worried look on Percy’s face.

Percy shot Oliver a grateful smile.

And to get to see those dimples again.

So that was how he spent his Friday night; tearing their room apart and putting it back together while their friends helped each other with their homework.

So while their friends were surrounded by warmth, jokes, and other Gryffindors, Oliver was surrounded by dust, Pip’s whole wardrobe, and Percy’s incessant rambling.

He loved it.

And after hours of searching, they didn’t find anything other than a disturbing amount of Pip’s belongings scattered all over their dorm.

Oliver and Percy were cold and sore all over, covered in so much dust that even Percy’s cleaning spells couldn’t get them all.

Oliver sneaked a peek at Percy’s red curls, and thought it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to even write this today, but then I watched the newest Teen Wolf episode (any fans here?) and I just had to because that ending gave me all the feels.  
> So heads up, most of my chapters will vary in length, but after the Golden Trio show up, the chapters should all stay within the same length more or less.  
> And yes, this first few chapters are just going to be snippets to set a background but after around chapter seven it'll just follow one story line.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> Subscriptions and kudos make me write faster!


	5. Fourth Year Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy tries to do the noble thing.  
> Oliver talks him out of it because of course he does.

It was a date.

At least, Percy was pretty sure it was a date.

Oliver was dressed in his best robes, and he had managed to actually do his hair for once. He was blushing profusely (something Percy thought only he did) and his hands would twitch in Percy’s direction before he thought better of it and brought them under the table.

Percy looked at his menu and pretended not to notice.

He had this horrible, borderline painful feeling in his stomach, and he clenched and unclenched his hands in order to ignore it, digging his nails forcefully into his palms.

Oh, how he had wished for this day to come.

Percy wasn’t stupid.

He knew he had… feelings, for Oliver. Had known so since the very first time Oliver helped him climb into the portrait of the Fat Lady back in their first year.

He had spent so many hours (hours he could have spent studying) thinking of Oliver, wondering what he was doing (when he wasn’t by his side, which he usually was) and most importantly, what Oliver thought of him. It was the force behind most of Percy’s actions, what Oliver would think of him.

So on this day, on this particular trip to Hogsmeade trip, Percy waved at Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in their same year, to come join them in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop when he saw her walk past the front windows. Percy knew that Penelope liked him, and he wasn’t heartless. He had never intended to give her false hope, or use her feelings for his own gain, yes on this particular trip to Hogsmeade, when Oliver had finally mustered enough courage to ask him out on a date, Percy called Penelope over and invited her to sit with them in their table, between himself and Oliver, who paled and looked at Percy as though he had never seen him before.

Percy knew it was a date.

Oliver knew Percy knew it was a date.

Percy knew Oliver knew Percy knew it was a date.

Penelope did not know it was a date.

And so Percy Weasley shared a table with the young man he was madly in love with and the girl who was madly in love with him.

And he had never felt worse.

 

**********************************************************************

 

Marcus Flint was an asshole who deserved to be expelled from Hogwarts and have his wand broken.

No, actually, he deserved far worse.

Percy hoped Marcus Flint tripped down the moving stairs and was squished to death as they moved back into place.

Percy then felt slightly guilty for wishing so.

But not guilty enough to not aim a soft spell to cause him to trip just as he was about to skip the trick step.

That was how Marcus Flint ended up in Madam Pomfrey’s care with a broken nose and a nearly severed arm.

Percy felt slightly proud, and he couldn’t wait to tell Oliver but halfway through his journey to the Gryffindor Common Room, Percy remembered he didn’t have Oliver anymore.

Sure, they saw each other daily, and they still spoke, but they didn’t really talk. Percy knew Oliver thought he had made a horrible mistake, misunderstood their relationship. He was ashamed, confused, angry (both at himself and at Percy—but more at himself), embarrassed, sad, lonely, and basically went through a myriad of emotions.

Percy didn’t.

He just felt empty.

He earned a perfect score in a DADA paper; empty.

His favorite dinner was served at the Great Hall; empty.

Fred and George somehow managed to Vanish all his belongings; empty.

Oliver lent him one of his ties; a sliver of warmth.

He knew what that meant, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

He doubted he had ever felt as bad as he currently did. And of course others began to notice. The first one to ask had been Pip, surprisingly. He wanted to know what was wrong with Oliver and him, and had they gotten into a fight? Then came the twins, saying that they truly hadn’t meant to Vanish all his belongings and Charlie had already yelled at them. Plus, they had owled Mum and she was already trying to find clothes to send him. And as for books, it’s not like no one else was willing to share. Charlie noticed third (or at least spoke third), and told him that whatever happened between him and Oliver, it was okay. Percy said it really wasn’t, but Charlie insisted that it really was. Percy was his little brother and nothing would change that, not even if he liked blokes instead. He was still his favorite younger brother (but he better not say anything or else he wouldn’t hear the end of it from either their Mum or the twins—they both figured Ron didn’t really care much).

While Charlie didn’t really understand, Percy felt his shoulders sag, and he allowed himself to lean against Charlie’s strong frame for a few seconds.

While wizards tended to focus more on blood status than on gender, that didn’t always apply to relationships. Same sex relationships weren’t exactly approved by all circles, and it was still something shameful, something that should be hidden.

Charlie loudly and publicly exclaimed that it was bullshit, who cared if two blokes were in love? He himself had thoroughly snogged Lyle Flynn (a seventh year Hufflepuff who was out and proud), and while it didn’t particularly do much for him, he could definitely see the appeal.

Percy really wanted him to shut up, specially because Oliver had walked into the Common Room just in time to hear Charlie’s confession and he stood frozen by the entrance. Percy watched worriedly as Oliver cocked his head to the side and eyed Charlie before simply shrugging and walking up to their dorm.

Percy turned to glare at Charlie and elbowed him sharply in the stomach.

“What? I didn’t say anything bad!” Charlie defended himself from his brother’s sharp edges, trying to squirm away, and it was a wonderful sight. Burly Charlie Weasley trying to escape long and thin limbed Percy Weasley, who was almost frail looking.

“You just announced having snogged Lyle Flynn!”

“And I said it did nothing for me!” he cried, holding both of Percy’s thin wrists away from his body.

Percy aimed for a kick.

“So that’s girls and blokes out.”

Percy cocked his head to the side.

“Out of what?”

“The running for my heart. But don’t worry, little brother. I mean, come on. Dragons! What else could I possibly need?”

Percy could think of a lot of things he could possibly need if he was always to be surrounded by dragons, but his brother got that happy and wondrous look in his eyes he always got whenever someone mentioned dragons and decided against saying anything.

He was glad his brother had managed to find what made him happy so early in life, even if that was researching and saving dragons.

(He certainly wished he had found a safer passion, like broom making. There couldn’t be that many casualties in broom making, could there? He should research this.)

After he managed to convince Charlie to leave him alone and not to say anything to their mother or, Merlin forbid, any of their siblings (yes, that includes Bill. No, I don’t care that you tell him everything, you won’t tell him this. Too bad, so sad, Charlie), Percy climbed the stairs to his dorm.

Inside, he found Oliver sitting cross-legged on his bed, an open book lying on his short clad thighs. They—it! The book. Definitely the book. It caught Percy’s attention because it was a Muggle book. At least, Percy was pretty sure it was, since the title was a bit deceiving. _Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_ could pass as magical, after all. Either way, it didn’t really sound as anything Olive would be reading, and he desperately wanted to ask him about it, but he couldn’t.

Not anymore.

So instead he climbed into his own bed and opened his Herbology book.

He couldn’t help but steal sidelong glances at Oliver, and he caught Oliver doing the same once or twice.

They both blushed when they caught each other staring and couldn’t look away fast enough.

He was going to go mad.

Percy was once again grateful that he and Oliver’s minds ran in the same wavelength, as unlikely as that should have been.

“Okay, no. This is ridiculous. I get that I read the situation wrong and everything, and it was embarrassing and it sucked and it was just a horribly uncomfortable situation for everyone but Penelope, but you’re my best friend. We need to pretend it never happened because I will go absolutely mad if we keep this up any longer. Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re going to drive everyone else mad, too.”

Since Percy had never been able to keep anything from Oliver (except for his huge crush on him, which how had he even pulled that off?), whether it was the fact that Percy had corrected Oliver’s homework when the other had gone to bed just to make sure Oliver was allowed to remain on the Quidditch team or the fact that he couldn’t sleep unless there were voices or snores or explosions or some sort of noise because he grew in with the twins, but also with Quidditch crazy Charlie and chatterbox Bill and headstrong Ginny and tone deaf Ron.

Small or big, Percy always ended up spilling the truth to Oliver.

Which was why neither of them was really surprised when Percy spoke next.

“You didn’t read it wrong! The situation, I mean. You read it right. Perfectly right. Oh, so bloody right. But! But I couldn’t! I didn’t want to do what I did, I truly didn’t, please believe me. It killed me to do so! But I had to, I had to because of bloody Marcus Flint! I mean, I grew up with Ginny, and my mum raised me right, I would never ever ever toy with someone’s feeling like I did with Penelope. I do like her, just not like that! Because I like _you_. Have liked you since our first year. Oh, Merlin, if Mum or Ginny found out about me tricking Penelope like that, they would hex me dead! And I should let them, it was horrible of me, to take advantage of someone’s feelings like that, I mean there’s nothing more despicable! I should write them and tell them, they’d set me straight. Ha! Straight. Oh, Merlin,” Percy broke off nervously as he saw Oliver climb off his bed, book still in hand, and climbed into Percy’s so that they were sitting side by side, their thighs brushing against each other.

“Okay, Perce. Take a deep breath,” he said with a wide grin, his brown eyes shining merrily. “Better?”

Percy nodded, taking another deep breath, which he hadn’t been able to do since that Hogsmeade trip the week prior.

“Okay, now tell me why you did, then. And no more mention of your mother and sister hexing you dead, yeah?” the Scot suggested.

“It was Marcus Flint. I don’t know how things are in the Muggle world, but… same sex relationships aren’t exactly… accepted in the Wizarding world.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow judgingly, so Percy hurried on.

“I don’t know how he knew. Or actually, I’m pretty sure I was really obvious about it, but he cornered me last week. He’s been after me since I… anyway, he told me he knew. And while I usually would have told you, I didn’t really want you to know. And I just… I don’t want to sound like they do, but Oliver…. You’re a half blood, but you were raised Muggle. They practically consider you a Muggleborn. Which I don’t care about, you know I don’t! But others will! I thought… I thought that if word got out, then… I mean, things would be harder for you. I just didn’t want that to happen to you. You deserve much better than that,” Percy finished with a whisper.

Oliver didn’t speak for a minute, the longest minute of Percy’s life.

Just as Percy was about to turn to look at his friend, Oliver pulled him into the warmest hug Percy had ever received (and his mother was Molly Weasley, so that was saying a lot).

“Oliver, what…?”

“You ridiculous, ridiculous wizard. You’re so selfless, did you know that? It’s so ridiculous. You have the kindest heart I have ever come across and you don’t even know it. You’re a hard worker, and loyal beyond belief, and patient, and if you hadn’t punched Marcus Flint in the nose for Simon, I would think the Sorting Hat actually meant for you to go to Hufflepuff.”

“Okay, first off, I don’t know what Hufflepuffs you’ve been hanging around, but the ones I know can punch pretty hard,” Percy said against Oliver’s shoulder. “Second, who said I punched Marcus Flint?”

Percy could just picture Oliver’s eyeroll perfectly.

“I know it was you,” was all he said.

“What was me?”

“The Interhouse Riot of 1988. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, actually. Simon and Nico were both acting odd that week, and so were you. I just asked Pip, and Pip asked the other two and then they told us what happened and that you singlehandedly started the Interhouse Riot of 1988.”

Percy wrinkled his nose.

“I can’t believe they actually call it that. I can practically hear the capitalizations.”

“How else could they call it? It was an actual riot, Percy. Over 60 students were jinxed, hexed, or charmed. There were broken bones. There were missing bones. It wasn’t just a magical fight, Perce. There was a brawl. I can’t believe I missed it. It’s definitely going down in the history books.”

“Shut up, it better not.”

“You should be proud. You made actual history, Percy. Can you imagine, a few years from now, someone who loves history as much as you do, hearing about the Interhouse Riot of 1988? About how a second year Gryffindor started it in order to defend his friend from a Slytherin? That’s pretty badass, if you ask me.”

Percy blushed some more, but he couldn’t stop the proud grin that grew on his face.

Just then, the door opened and Simon and Pip walked in laughing.

They stopped as Oliver and Percy jumped apart.

“Is the fight over, then?” Pip asked, throwing his robes on the floor the second he crossed the door.

“It wasn’t a fight,” Percy defended weakly as Simon picked up Pip’s discarded robes and threw them on his bed.

“Really? Could have fooled us, mate,” he called, walking to his trunk and getting out his pajamas.

“It was a misunderstanding. We’re okay now,” Oliver stated, his voice soft and happy.

Warm.

Percy didn’t feel empty anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to upload chapter five yesterday but I got too distracted to finish the chapter.  
> Then I got home today, reread what I had and hated it so I chucked it.  
> I rewrote the entire thing meaning for it to be a bit on the shorter side but somehow ended up with almost 2,500 words.  
> Because life.  
> Anyway, on brighter news, TEEN WOLF TOMORROW!!!!  
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, y'all.


	6. Fifth Year Troll Hunts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver watches over Harry.  
> Oliver watches Percy watch over Harry.  
> Oliver is slightly intimidated by the mastermind that is his friend.

He had grown up Muggle, even though his father was a Wizard.

He knew about the Wizarding World, and had even visited Diagon Alley on occasion, but because his father was an only child and his mother had three siblings, twelve cousins, five aunts and six uncles, the Woods decided to raise their son surrounded by family rather than by magic.

That’s not to say Oliver didn’t witness magic every day, either from his father doing chores around the house, or from when his father’s friends came by to visit. Oliver grew up knowing magic was an integral part of his life, but that so was family, and that in the end, family trumped magic any day.

Oliver knew Percy had grown up with the same family values, but that magic and family were intertwined with one another, their bonds clear and strong because of them. It made him feel that much prouder of his own father, who had given up such a vital part of himself for his wife and his son.

Oliver also knew that Harry Potter, the boy who had made the Quidditch team on his first year, had never experienced the things Oliver and Percy had, family wise.

And so as the small, skinny first year stood before him, a confused yet resolute look on his face, Oliver couldn’t help but feel proud of him too, because while he had not made sacrifices willingly, he had made them nonetheless. The child had grown up unloved and uncared for, and yet Oliver himself had seen the love he had for his friends, the loyalty he had for anyone he found worthy. He had seen Harry and Ron running around the castle, and Oliver was not in the least surprised that Percy’s youngest brother, who had been raised with the same values and Percy, had instantly latched on to this tiny child and declared himself his best friend, not because he was Harry bloody Potter, but because he was a child with no family and no one to care for him, with no one to care for. So of course Ron had provided.

So had Percy, even if no one had seen him working tirelessly from behind the curtains, making sure that whatever the kid needed, he had, even if it came in the shape of the twins’ playful teasing (a few carefully placed comments here and there about maybe Ron’s new friend being a sassy little shit), or Flitwick’s more patient disposition towards the first years (after an emotional admission that without Flitwick’s guidance, Percy would have never made it as far as he had, and that he knew neither would have the twins), or a particularly interesting to watch debate (that Percy won) with McGonagall and the other prefects and Head Boy and Girl about the benefits of learning a fire extinguishing charm and practicing it until it became second nature to cast it (it had save plenty of lives and books, specially around that first year Scot and his Muggleborn friend).

And now it was Oliver’s turn to do something for Harry Potter and his chosen circle of friends (and yes, he was aware that McGonagall had told him to do so, but regardless of that, he was going to teach that kid to be the best Seeker the Wizarding World had ever seen).

He explained to him the positions and the use of each of the balls used, he went over a few basic techniques, just to get him used to hearing Quidditch lingo, and explained all he knew about Seekers, making sure to emphasize the importance of the Seeker and how he was the one that the whole team depended on because he was their secret weapon. Percy had told him the night before to emphasize that.

The short lesson only lasted an hour, because as much as Oliver could spend all day talking about Quidditch, the kid looked ready to drop. And so after telling him he’d introduce him to the rest of the team (sans the twins who he already knew), Olive sent him away.

He couldn’t help but watch that small kid walking up to the castle, his wild hair and glasses reminding him of another strong willed Wizard he knew, and suddenly, Oliver got the feeling that Harry Potter would be alright.

He had a really powerful Wizard watching his back, after all.

 

***************************************

 

A troll.

Of course it had to be a bloody troll.

Percy had been happily enjoying the Halloween Feast when all of the sudden, Quirrell had barged in screaming and crying (really? Even Ron acted more bravely when faced with spiders) about a troll in the castle.

Percy had shared a miserable look with Simon and, abandoning his food, he stood on his seat and called for all first year Gryffindors (all others were implied) to follow him to the Common Room. And so he made sure he had all the little menaces and began to guide them to the Common Room, feeling Oliver walking by his side and knowing that Simon, Pip, and Nico had gone off to catch any other wandering Gryffindors.

Once inside, he counted faces, and he recognized all of them, from Lee Jordan’s to Seamus Finnigan’s to Dean Thomas’s to Lavender Brown’s. They were all there.

Except for his brother and his two new friends.

Just before panic could truly set in, one of the portraits (he was too close to a small panic attack to really notice which one) called out that McGonagall had found the three first year Gryffindors and she would return them to their Common Room shortly.

Percy let out a relieved breath and shared a glare with Oliver.

Those little shits.

 

***********************

 

“We’re going to bed. McGonagall said they’re safe and I’m pretty sure she’s planning out their detentions for the rest of their lives. They shouldn’t be too long now,” Pip said as he got up from the couch, stretching his arms high above his head and groaning contently when his back popped loudly.

Simon and Nico followed suit.

“Don’t be too harsh on them, they’re probably freaked out enough as it is,” Simon advised, and with that, the three fifth year Gryffindor boys left the Common Room.

Oliver laid next to him on the couch, snoring softly, his head pillowed on the armrest and his feet buried under Percy’s thighs.

Percy glared at the portrait hole, willing it to open, open and show him his baby brother safe and in one piece, but the Fat Lady must not have been feeling very giving because the door remained closed.

It must have been around half an hour, forty minutes before the door finally did open, and when they did, Percy was tempted to jump to his feet, but Oliver let out a soft snore just as he was tensing up to get up and Percy hesitated.

He figured the three kids were going to come inside anyway so there was no point in waking up Oliver.

He could see Professor McGonagall standing behind them, making sure they truly were inside the Common Room before closing the portrait after them. Percy simply shot them a glare as the three of them scurried inside, wincing when they caught sight of him.

“Hey, Percy,” Harry greeted sheepishly as Ron scratched at his neck nervously.

“Harry, Hermione,” Percy greeted before turning to his brother. “Ronald.”

“Percy,” was all he said.

“I hope you realize I will have to write Mum in the morning to let her know what’s happened.”

Ron sighed.

“Yeah, I figured. Just make sure to tell her we did it to save Hermione and we were very brave, it wasn’t for fun or whatever she’s thinking.’

Percy cocked his head to the side and shot Hermione a worried look.

“Are you alright?”

“I am, yes. I wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been for Ron and Harry, I can’t stand the thought of them getting into trouble for something I did,” she cried, reaching over to grasp Harry’s hand.

“I think I am missing a lot of this story,” Percy allowed. “So maybe I should hear it all before writing Mum.”

Ron smiled.

“It was bloody brilliant—” he started.

“But dangerous,” Hermione interrupted.

“We heard Hermione was in the girl’s bathroom and she hadn’t heard the announcement of the troll—” Harry continued.

“So we went and—”

“It was suddenly standing right there—”

“The club was HUGE—”

“At least three times as big as me!”

“It was swinging it everywhere—”

“A spell that we had learned earlier—”

“I got it right—”

“It fell on its head and knocked him out—”

“My wand was stuck up its nose, though—”

“Full of boogers, it was awesome—”

Percy leaned back and patted Oliver’s shins as he shifted in his sleep, the cacophony of voices filling the Common Room.

As his youngest brother’s excited voice filled the room, he had to wonder if maybe he had to write a completely different letter to his mother than he had originally planned.

It seemed to him like Ron had simply been watching after his friends, after all.

Looking at Oliver snoring softly next to him, Percy thought he could relate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, sorry for taking longer than usual to update.  
> My sister rescued three kittens who were around two days old so we've had to hand feed them every few hours and watch over them and I've barely slept since.  
> Anyway, I couldn't decide whether to use this part or the Quirrell/Voldemort scene and have Percy realize Holy damn, Voldemort is back, but I decided to go with this scene because I wanted to show Percy and Oliver with Ron, Harry, and Hermione a bit, have a bit of background and whatnot. Plus, some Oliver background!  
> I will try to keep my updates to once a week, but I will do my best to not go past two weeks without an update, but keep in mind school is about to start again.  
> Kudos and comments make me write faster!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> XOXO


	7. Sixth Year Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope played the messenger, Percy played the genius, and Oliver played... Oliver.
> 
> (Percy has seriously got to work on his puppetmaster skills).

The first to go had been a first year, smaller than even Ginny was, a Gryffindor boy named Colin Creevey.

Petrified, they’d said.

Turned to stone.

The Heir of Slytherin was back, they’d said.

He’d set that monster on Muggleborns.

They were saying a lot of things.

Percy knew what it meant, though. What it all really meant. Specially so soon after Quirell.

He was back. There was no denying it. Percy knew that. He just didn’t know exactly how You-Know-Who had managed to set that monster free, not without being here himself. It was far too soon for him to have someone inside the castle already, even the children of Death Eaters.

It fucked up Percy’s perception of safety a bit.

Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place on the planet, where all these children from a dying breed were gathered together, and yet the one who was determined to wipe out all magical children with a drop of Muggle blood in them (which, what a hypocrite he was) had somehow found a way inside the castle, hidden in plain sight. And now, his monster was out to carry out its master’s wishes.

It seemed impossible that he would not succeed.

(Percy tried his damn best not to think about Oliver’s own Muggle heritage).

And so as the beast was roaming around the castle, everyone began pointing fingers.

It was Hagrid, it was Harry, it was this random sixth year Percy had never even heard of—even Ron had his own theory, quick to point his finger at that Malfoy kid (Percy had casually added a book with the Polyjuice potion instructions to Hermione’s ever growing stack of books one afternoon, no easy feat considered Madam Pince, in order to get his brother to stop focusing his attentions in the wrong suspect).

The list was endless. So while everyone was freaking out over Finch-Fletchley and Sir Nicholas, Percy did what he did best: he worked behind the curtains.

Mainly it involved a lot of research, and sadly, stomping through the Forbidden Forest in search for his father’s escaped car (it wasn’t exactly necessary for You-Know-Who’s monster’s defeat, but it was his dad’s. Percy had to at least try).

He could have definitely done without that last part.

Especially considering the gigantic spider he almost crossed paths with.

He was a very strong suspicion it was Hagrid’s doing.

He was once again glad for his being sorted into Gryffindor. Percy was no fool, after all. He had many of the qualities fit for a Slytherin, but he was already too different from his brothers, so he had begged for Gryffindor (which was obvious all his siblings would get into, even little Ginny), and miraculously, the Sorting Hat had listened. It was because of his Gryffindor sorting that Percy found himself in his bed when he was sure he had fallen asleep in the Common Room, or turning in completed homework when he had no memory of ever having finished it. It was Oliver claiming to be too busy to continue their flying lessons whenever Percy looked like he was about to drop, or Pip attempting to clean up after himself and Simon always being close behind him to clean up what he missed. It was Nico not minding being Percy’s guide whenever he was too tired to keep his eyes open on their way to class and opting instead to clutch Nico’s robes.

He knew what they were doing, but no one acknowledged it. they knew something was up with Percy, but had learned through the years that he would either fix it himself, or he would come subtlety asking for their help. They figured he hadn’t gotten to that point yet.

And he truly hadn’t.

He managed to read more books in a few weeks than he ever had before. Words swam together, merging into one another. A monster’s strengths mixed with those of another, its weaknesses traded for those of another. He knew he would eventually have to reread all these texts in order to get the information right, but so far he hadn’t found what he needed, so he let it be. He continued to read.

He must have been reading around his thirtieth book when he came across it.

The Basilisk.

Just as he was getting a piece of parchment to write some things down, he heard someone call his name and looked up just in time to see Penelope rushing into the library.

“Percy, oh, Merlin, I’m so glad I’ve found you,” she exclaimed, breathless.

“What’s happened?” he asked, already dreading the worst. Who would it be? Ron? Fred and George? Or… simply Fred? Simply George? Was that even possible?

“It’s Oliver!”

Well, then.

“What?” Percy whispered.

Penelope’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Merlin, no! I don’t mean… he’s fine! Or, well, not petrified, at least. It’s Flint. He’s going to kill him!” Percy exhaled. That wasn’t so bad, then.

“Where are they?” he asked calmly, jotting down a single word in the parchment. He knew she’d be able to figure it out.

“By the Quidditch pitch.”

Percy nodded and gathered his things.

“Hey, listen, I don’t have a lot of time if I want to get there in time to stop Oliver from being kicked from the team for killing Flint, but can you give this to Hermione? Granger,” Percy asked as he handed her the piece of parchment.

Penelope was already nodding.

“Of course. But… Pipes? What does that even mean?”

“She’ll know. Don’t tell her it’s from me, though. It’s for an assignment but I’m not supposed to be helping her.”

“Why are you, then?”

“Because she’s going to help me,” he called as he walked out of the library, leaving her behind and heading straight for the Quidditch pitch.

Olive needed his help, after all.

 

*******************************

 

Oliver knew Percy had many faces he showed the world, and until that night he had thought that he had seen them all.

He was wrong, for he had never seen this one.

He had never seen Percy as heartbroken, as despaired, as guilty as he was now.

He leaned against one of the trees near the Quidditch Pitch in the darkness in just pajama pants and a thin shirt despite the cold, fists pressed so hard against his eyes that his knuckles were stark white, his glasses hanging from the front of his shirt.

He was shivering, but Oliver was sure it was not because of the weather, but because of the sobs that broke through no matter how hard he seemed to try to hold them back.

“Percy?”

He didn’t respond.

Oliver walked closer and reached out to lay his hand on Percy’s arm, but he just flinched in response and moved back, his hands falling back to his sides and his eyes glued to his feet.

“Don’t touch me,” he whispered, his head hanging.

Oliver narrowed his eyes and took another step towards his… towards Percy.

“Stop it. I don’t know what happened, but you need to stop.”

Percy shook his head.

“I sent them there. I was the one—because of me…” Percy’s voice broke, but this time he didn’t move away as Oliver reached for his hand.

“Sent who?” he asked gently.

Percy raised his head towards the skies, tears sliding down his freckled cheeks.

“Hermione and Penelope. I told them how it traveled. I shouldn’t have, I should have—”

“No, stop. There is not ‘should have’. You did what you did, but Perce, you did nothing wrong.”

“They’re petrified, the both of them. Because of me.”

“Not because of you. Because of whoever decided unleashing this monster into a castle filled with children was a good idea. You did nothing wrong, Percy.”

Percy shook his head again.

“We know who sent to unleash it. We know who’s order it was.”

“Then blame him, Percy. Blame him and not yourself because there is no way this is your fault. Not from where I’m standing.”

“I just wanted to help,” Percy rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “I wanted to help but I made it worse.”

“You had no way of knowing what would happen. As brilliant as you are, there is no way you can predict the future and see every outcome.”

“That would come in so handy. I’d be so badass.”

“You are badass. Just not psychic,” Oliver joked as he saw Percy move closer to him. “Okay, so this has happened. It’s already done. What do we do now?”

Percy took a shuddering breath and nodded, resolute.

“Madam Pomfrey is already working on the cure, so we can’t do anything from that angle. We need to figure out who he sent to open the chamber.”

Olive nodded along as Percy began to spout off plan after plan, clearly more in his element than he had been before.

“Just tell me what you need me to do, no questions asked.”

Percy looked shaken as he raised his eyes to meet Oliver’s, who, much to the latter’s dismay, was around two inches shorter than the redhead.

He took a hesitant step forward, which brought him so close to his friend that their chests touched.

And then he kissed him, softly and gently, once, before stumbling backwards, his face burning brighter than Oliver had ever seen.

Oliver couldn’t help it.

He giggled.

When asked years later, he would say chuckled in a very manly manner before swooping back in and having the hottest make out session with Percy anyone could ever dream of, but the truth was that he giggled nervously and just couldn’t seem to stop, even when Percy looked at him with those wide eyes, but especially after Percy joined in.

Dear Merlin, his best friend/roommate/something had kissed him.

Percy turned back into Percy and got back to business a minute after, but still.

He wouldn’t be Percy if he hadn’t.

So as Percy continued his plans on their walk back to the castle, walking close enough to each other that their joint hands wouldn’t be seen (they were in love, not stupid) Oliver couldn’t help but stare at Percy’s pink lips.

“Did you hear a word I was saying?” those beautiful lips asked, taking on an annoyed pout.

“You’re going to take over the world to rid us of dumbasses who unleash giant snakes into a castle filled with unsuspecting children.”

Percy nods.

“I’m going to get rid of him. I don’t know how yet, but I will. I know it’s not exactly a reasonable thing to say since so many others have tried before me, but I just have to. Even if I don’t personally rid us of him, I’ll pull all the strings I must, align all the stars in the sky to make it happen.”

Oliver looked at the sixteen year old boy by his side and knew that he would move mountains if it meant staying at his side as he saved the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!  
> So sorry, y'all! School kicked me ass harder than I thought possible, oh my lord I don't know how I'm still standing.  
> I know, longest wait ever, and the chapter isn't that long! Don't hate me, give me love and encouragement please.  
> But at least we're moving along to the actual plot of the story (after like fifty years).  
> And yes, I'm somewhat ignoring the whole Penelope/Percy thing. I wasn't sure how to write it and it's not really all that relevant to this story, so... Yeah.  
> Anyway, Sorry for the long wait.  
> Kudos and Comments appreciated, y'all, don't be shy! They make me write faster!!!!!  
> XOXO


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